


Wizard, stuntman, pirate

by English is my death (Lena013)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, One Piece
Genre: Byakuran is Tenryuubito, Created Family, Gen, Harry Potter and his luck, Harry Potter is Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Harry has a long life full of shit and rainbows, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Memory Loss, Potter's luck, Self-Loathing, Skull Fucking, Skull were in one piece, everyone dies, fragments of life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26459893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lena013/pseuds/English%20is%20my%20death
Summary: Frankly, Harry shouldn't have been surprised.Or the story where Harry reincarnated as Skull and disappeared into the world of One Piece.
Relationships: Arcobaleno & Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Arcobaleno (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!) & Harry Potter, Byakuran & Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 212
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Identity Crisis





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language, please understand and forgive me.

_(1)_

Frankly, Harry _shouldn't have_ been surprised. In fact, he is already dead, reborn, and has lived the good life of a stuntman, boss of the loony mafia family, the weakest of the Arcobaleno's, the wrong Cloud, and truly _(thanks to Potter's luck)_ an immortal man all rolled into one. Yes, that's why he took his next adventure for granted.

Although. Possible. Just maybe, don't think anything of it... but he blamed Arcobaleno.

Well, he blamed a _specific_ Sun and a very _specific_ Storm in his life.

Skull sighed, shaking the wet sand out of his boots and removing the chain piercing. He looked indifferently at the huge island with it's greenery, high rocks, and some hungry eyes that he felt were remnants of the instinct of self-preservation.

Well, it couldn't have been that bad, right?

_(2)_

Skull hated this world.

Harry despised his luck.

Skull D. Potter cursed his habit of introducing himself by different names, naively deciding that once a new world, you can take the old name. Oh, for nothing, for nothing.

Not that it was all his fault. No, absolutely not. It was just that Skull felt that the city lacked a professional otolaryngologist and free continuous patient admissions, since no one was able to hear "De" instead of "Di". In the end, Skull accepted his fate, ruffling his dark purple hair and rolling his green eyes to the sky, as if to ask: no pettiness, right?

As it turns out, if you don't risk your life twenty — four to seven days a week — including stunt work, as unpleasant as it is to admit-then the color of your hair and eyes returns to their original color, causing you to recoil from every reflected surface. It's so strange to see myself, but still with a different face and no collection of "Harry" scars.

Later, much later, about two hundred years later, Skull was told that "Di" was a kind of brand, a warning.

"Chosen?" Skull asked the fishman in fear.

"More like a curse", they laughed at his fright.

_(3)_

Time flew by in this world incredibly quickly, when you start to get used to it. Skull liked to spend an interminable existence here, floating from one Kingdom to another, genuinely trying to map this fucking hemisphere, because, _by the Gods,_ he was bursting the right vessel for life in his head, this world didn't make any sense.

However, not that the world of magic had it with their middle ages. And even more so the world of Attributes and Mafiosi. Skull, to his disappointment, oddly enough, noted that the mafiosi in this world are just _weak_. He found himself beginning to miss the daily explosions and insanity without meaning.

Skull sucked in a breath of icy air, feeling the beginning of oxygen starvation, and continued to fly up, looking for the top of the Red Line and making measurements with an endless roulette wheel.

How nice that this world is mad enough to give it back it's magic.

He missed.


	2. Chapter 2

_(4)_   
  


What he _definitely_ didn't want to _see_ or experience again in his life was war. Ruthless, merciless, brusque and full of greed and envy war's. Burned of the island, burning the sea and burning the entire Red Line. The fumes ate into your skin, your hair, your very being. The Grand Line turned black and red every day, and thousands, hundreds of thousands, _millions_ of people died.

 _It was genocide,_ — a voice inside him that sounded remarkably like Reborn told him harshly. Ha, funny, after almost a hundred and thirty years, he still remembers senpai's voice. It wasn't a funny idea, just a ridiculous one, but Skull couldn't stop laughing.

He laughed until his stomach ached, coloring the dead silence, inhaling the musty smell of burning, choking on the settling ash, and clawing at his dirty bright purple hair.

He was laughing until he cried, trying to see the sky with blurred eyes _(lackey, remember, your Sky will always be the answer to everything)_ at least a piece of the sky; _smoke, smoke, and smoke,_ Skull tried to take a breath, feeling the effect of the Flames on his internal organs.

He laughed, knowing that the Flame would not let him die, would not let him share the fate of all the people around him — friends, colleagues, relatives — that Immortality would not let him forget who he was, what he was, and what he knew.  
  


_(5)_

He laughed just as hard the second time when he found out that they called the event an Void Century.

"Pathetic bastards", he said to the shocked people in the diner, who looked at him like he was crazy.

_(6)_

_Wanted dead or alive_

_Skull D. Potter_   
_1,000,000,000 berry_

The world's first bounty poster read.

_(7)_

Harry loved pirates, he thought they were interesting people, in love with freedom and following their dreams. Perhaps this is how he was influenced by a series of films about pirates of the seventeenth century, and Hermione once reminded him of the reality of life, in fact prohibiting romanticizing thieves, murderers and rapists. But Harry liked to fantasize, believe and dream about the impossible.

Harry Potter always dreamed of one thing — freedom. About choice and fresh air, about life without fear and orders, about life with joy and sincere fun. The little boy in the closet was dreaming about something he didn't know until he saw it firsthand.

Skull De Mort had it. There was drive, speed and flirting with the beloved aunt Death. There were fans, fame, and travel. There was a demand for what he _wanted_ to do, not _required_ to do. And then, just like the first time, some asshole came and chained him up. Skull still remembers that it took him ten years to be alone and get his mental balance in order — _and he especially remembers the thrashing from the other Arcobalenos who couldn't find him._

If he didn't want to be found — _his wasn't found._

It took three hundred years for the World Government (what modesty!) to forget his name, along with all references to the Void Century, and the true meaning of the initial D.

Skull grinned, happy and sad to meet each of the descendants of the fallen, destroyed Kingdom: the people Were truly amazing. In a good and bad way, looking back at the actions of individuals.

"D — look like the storm that came before and caught up with it", he muttered to the circle of admirals Marine's, who didn't recognize his face and took it for their own in the pressed, perfectly white uniform of a private.

"Ha, you can't say better!"

Well, he should have known better that _Potter's_ words always had a separate life.


End file.
